


A Last Kiss

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: Severus and Sybill share a last kiss.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Sybill Trelawney
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14
Collections: Hermione’s Nook Kissmas





	A Last Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited and unbetad! I apologize for any mistakes.

In a dark alcove near the North Tower, Severus Snape waited. He waited for her. This was their routine; their secret. His life was secret upon secret upon secret. And a secret can eat you up, suck the meat from your bones, and Severus had those secrets—most of his were that kind, but not this one: This one bloomed inside the pit of your belly. This one made your heart prickle with sweat. This one left him satiated and ravenous. 

He could smell her when she was close, a scent he'd come to know quite well—wisteria and sandalwood. As she passed him, she looked slightly over her right shoulder, met his gaze, and continued to walk to her living quarters.

Moments later, he was inside her sitting area. He'd spent a lot of time here over the years, and he'd come to find it far more comforting than his living quarters. Granted, he thought she had too many things—books, candles, teacups, leftover tins of tea leaves, gazing balls, more candles, an old and beat-up pincushion of Dolores Umbridge, and who knows what else. He noted again, the Christmas tree she had in the corner, and he still didn't quite understand how someone as introverted, as reclusive, as outcast as her could even remotely care about Christmas enough to decorate, especially during these times. 

At the beginning of the term, he'd sought her out. He gave her rules to follow to ensure her safety. She was the only one who knew the entire truth—his early relationship with Lily, his mistakes, why he switched sides, her prophecy he'd overheard, all the spying he had done, his deep sorrow over murdering Dumbledore, and the careful placement of him now as headmaster. 

He knew he shouldn't be here; he shouldn't be anywhere near her in this regard, but he was quite certain that this was his last Christmas alive, and he wanted to spend it with someone who knew who he really was. 

If the Carrows saw him with her, they'd immediately tell the Dark Lord—everyone was always waiting for him to fuck something up—and then Severus would have to occlude all intimate memories of her, all emotions tied to her, and, at this point, he didn't know if he had the energy to. That would be bad for her and bad for him and bad for the rest of the Wizarding World. 

And yet, sitting on her couch, listening to her hum as she lit candles and watching her shedding layers of scarves and finally her oversized purple jumper, he felt perfectly happy with his decision to be with her. Tomorrow would be about Potter and getting him that sword, but tonight, well, tonight, could be his. 

Sybill handed him a drink, taking a sip from hers, and sat down next to him, her knee resting against his thigh. When she took off her sweater, she revealed a thin grey tank top which was tucked into a shimmery black skirt. He allowed himself a moment to memorize the way her breasts shifted beneath the shirt, the way her collarbones were so prominent that he could pour his whiskey into them and drink from the cups they made, the way her dark blonde hair frizzed at the nape of her neck, the way her lavender framed glasses caused a shimmery purple to reflect in her grey-blue eyes. He thought then that if the fate of so many weren't in jeopardy, he would easily stay here with her forever, secluded in the North Tower while the rest of the world crumbled around them. 

Sybill reached out with her long, tea stained fingers and rubbed a spot between his eyebrows. He knew what she was doing, relieving pressure off of his third eye. Admittedly, he didn't necessarily believe in what she was doing, but she did, and, sometimes, he thought that perhaps he did, too. He liked to think he could feel the tension leaving his body. He wanted to think it was. 

His eyes shut, he felt her shift on the couch, felt the warmth of her skin close to his, and then he felt her lips against his. 

It had been awhile since they'd last kissed. He'd forbade it, insisted that it was far too dangerous. She was hesitant to see him after that, but he still came to her, hoping she'd let him in. Finally, she did, and they usually sat in silence. Just being in her presence was comfort enough.

Putting his hands on her waist he pulled closer to him and he felt her body relax, ease against him. He had missed her, her body, her lips, her magic which seemed to vibrate off of her skin. She parted her lips and gently took his bottom lip between her teeth. He felt a growl growing in the back of his throat, and he met her intensity. 

But, just as suddenly as it began, it ended. His arm shot with pain. He was being summoned. Pulling away from him, she let her fingers trace around the mark, and then gripping his wrist. She pressed her lips to his palm, hiding his life line with her kiss.

Their eyes met, and, with his eyes saying more than he could have ever said words, he was gone.


End file.
